The Heartbreak of a Lady
by CamillaChappers
Summary: CONTAINS SPOLIERS FOR SEASON 2! Mary has never felt so alone, so heart-broken until she saw him once more. See more summary inside!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N OKAY words of warning! This story is spolierish towards what happens in series 2 from what I have red, so if you want to stay spolier-free DO NOT READ THIS STORY! As much as I would like you to read it,I don't want to spoil anything for anyone.**

**Secondly, this story is quite angsty so again you may want a box of tissues.. Or maybe not. :P I hope you all enjoy it, and I would gladly like any reviews! I'm thinking of continuing this story on from a one-shot and adding more to it, so any opinions on that will be gladly appreicated. Enjoy! :D**

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><p><strong>September 1916<strong>

She felt all of the breath had been sucked out of her, like a suckerpunch to the stomach when she saw him enter. They hadn't seen each other in two years; a lot had changed in two years. He was on the front line, risking his life for King and country whilst she was still at Downton, but that wasn't the only thing that had changed to Matthew Crawley. His feelings towards her had certainly changed, as Mary could only stare at the attractive red-head standing next to Matthew. She felt sick. She couldn't deny it was jealous raging within her yet, she could have so easily prevented this. She could have so easily had said yes that day when they kissed, oh that _wonderful_ kiss! Mary thought. But she cared too much about him to just yet the issue of Mr Pamuk pass over her - yes his death still bothered her to this very day. It prevented her from ever marrying the man she truly loved; yes she had other suitors that her parents had lined up for her but none of them were a patch on Matthew. She never harboured the same feelings for them that she had for him, she always hoped one day, maybe just one day, she would admit her true feelings. Alas, he now had another woman on his arm and probably one that was still virtuous and rightful for Matthew; not like her. The woman seem pleasant enough as Mary watched the pair chatting animatedly with her father, Matthew's red coat standing out against his fiancée's dress. Mary could not help but think how handsome he looked, then he looked at her.

Mary gaped as his electric blue eyes met hers, as his face displayed one of shock. She told herself to look away, to just break eye contact and briskly walk away but she found she could not. There was always something about his eyes that entranced her, that always made her not wanting to break eye contact. They stared deeply at each other, not doing anything else apart from holding one another's gaze. The connection they always had was there, she could feel it and she was almost certainly he could too as he simply held her eye contact. All of the feelings came rushing back, the amount of love and sadness she held for him as she slowly began to draw short in breath, a clenching feeling in her stomach, she had to get away but she just did not want to break eye contact just yet…

Then _she_ ruined it all. Matthew's fiancée had turned to him, tapping him on the arm for his attention. The moment lost, Matthew turned briefly to smile down at his future wife and all became too much for Mary. Mumbling an excuse to a suitor who was hovering near her, she almost ran from the hall, she was desperate for air, a space to think. She eventually reached the peace of the balcony outside, as she sat down on a bench looking out across the grounds. She felt hot tears prickled at her eyes and she silently cursed herself for being so stupid. Why did she have to be so stubborn? Why didn't she just tell him about Pamuk? And why oh why did she find she could not let go of Matthew Crawley, no matter how hard she tried? The reason was a simple one – she loved him. She knew no-one would even come close to how she felt for Matthew, and more tears fell at the realisation she had blown her one and surely only chance for being with him. She hastily began to wipe her rapidly falling tears away, trying to gain her composure when she heard footsteps nearing the balcony. Hurriedly, she stood up wiping her face of tears. Expecting to be her father, she was about to deliver a perfectly good excuse as to why she was outside but her excuse was lost in her throat as Matthew turned the corner. She simply gaped at him once more as he looked at her with a look of surprise, before finding a voice.

"Matthew! What a delight to see you," She said, shakily determined to show him that she was not broken – she was still the same stubborn Lady Mary he had always known. He returned a small smile.

"Likewise Lady Mary, it's wonderful to be back," He smiled at her and she could not help but smile softly back. God those eyes…

"How is life as an officer treating you?" She asked cautiously, and sure enough Matthew's smile faltered a little – she should have known better; the subject of war was always one that no-one liked to speak of.

"It's…hard. I've been relatively lucky so far, but my regiment are good men." He asked solemnly, bowing his head slightly as Mary understood it as a cue to change the subject. Oh she was so foolish! She was about to speak once more when he spoke.

"How is life at Downton treating you? Well I hope?" His voice was like music to her eyes, she had never heard such a wonderful voice. She nodded, briefly looking up to meet his eyes once more.

"Yes it rather is! I mean I try and help as much as again with the soldiers that are brought in, but I leave the main work to your mother and Sybil," she replied as Matthew nodded in agreement. She would never dare reveal that she was always scared that _he _would be brought in one day, it was always a thought she dreaded to think of. A few silent moments passed, Matthew's eyes avoiding hers before he spoke softly.

"Mary I know you know about me and Lavinia…" He said shakily, looking at her to see any reaction. Mary's first thought was what a hideous name she had! Why would he marry anyone with _that _name? Then she realised – why didn't she marry him?

"I offer my congratulations to both of you Matthew, I am sure the pair of you will be very happy," she smiled at him, not willing to let her guard and show to him that every word she had just said was like a stab to the heart, killing her slowly. Matthew smiled softly.

"Thank you Lady Mary. I do hope that we can move on and be friends? It would mean a lot to me for that to happen, make a fresh start" He asked hopefully. Mary wanted to simply break down and cry – "no it is not alright!" She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to shout and admit her unspoken love for him, to tell him not to marry the girl with the silly name, that she was sorry for being such a fool and that she was not fine to be just friends. But yet, a voice came from her mouth – one that was not saying what her heart was telling her.

"Of course cousin Matthew! I would like that very much," She smiled falsely at him as he beamed back.

"Fantastic! Now if you excuse me, I think I may go and join the dance," Mary nodded with a smile and he was gone in a flash. As soon as he had turned the corner, Mary's hand shot up to her mouth as sobs began, the sick feeling coming back as she had just given her blessing to the man she loved to marry another. She had truly lost him forever, and it was all her fault. And as Matthew happily spoke with well-wishers with his future wife, Mary stood alone on the balcony of Downton Abbey, never feeling as alone as she did now.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks to all those who have reviewed this story, or favourited it - it means a lot so thank you! :) I'm glad for any criticism or help, so reviews are welcome :) I'm also grateful for those who are continuing to review and favourite my other Downton stories I have written; I have enjoyed writing them so I am so glad that people also like them. **

**This chapter is a tad angsty I guess in a way... But be prepared! Enjoy :)**

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><p><strong>January 1917<strong>

Matthew had seen her that night, and he hadn't known quite what to do. All he could do was simply stare at her, for a few moments forgetting about his fiancée standing next to him and just focusing on her. He felt that connection again, the connection only her and he had; he couldn't help but be stunned by her beauty, as he always was… At this point he cursed himself for thinking such thoughts. You've moved on, he thought to himself, as he felt a slight tap on his arm. Breaking off eye contact, he smiled back at Lavinia, who's smile shone back at him with adoration. He felt immensely guilty for the thoughts and for sharing that connection with Mary, and forced himself to rid all of his feelings for her. He had moved on, he was with Lavinia whom he cared for very much – he loved her, he was engaged to her and he would have to rid any feelings of Mary to continue to make the engagement work. He had to remind himself that he was now the one with someone else, the one who was due to marry another woman, he couldn't think such feelings about Lady Mary. Yet he did. And he hated himself for that, for the fact that somewhere below all of the new feelings and love he had for Lavinia, he still very much had a connection with Mary.

But now, he was standing in a darken trench, surrounded by mud and makeshift walls, getting ready to lead his men into battle once more. He had to show courage as the captain of his regiment, courage and bravery into the unknown dangers that would face them as they would charge into battle. You never knew what would happen out in no-man's land, whether you would return dead or alive, injured or safely. Matthew hadn't believed in violence as a way of settling conflict, but he reminded himself that he chose to be here. He had enlisted himself to fight, enlisted himself to be as far away from Downton as possible and even though he shifts the blame to Mary and her motives, he was there fighting for his freedom. Double checking his rifle once more, he hastily shouted along the line to the rest of his regiment, each of them looking petrified. He often felt sickened at some of the ages of the lads that had signed up – some looking nearly as young as 16.

"Rifles at the ready! Fix bayonets!" He hollered along the line, hearing the clicks of guns being loaded with ammunition. "Get ready lads!"

He privately thought to himself, thinking of back home as he always did as he set out. He thought of Downton, his mother, Lavinia… And with a sharp blast of his whistle along with many other captains along the miles of trenches, he was roaring with his men and sprinting up the ladder into no-man's land. Instantly shells began raining down on them, mud and shrapnel flying everywhere but Matthew continued to press forward, encouraging his men to do the same. Dodging bullets and shells, he aimed his own rifle and fired and kept firing, determined to knock down any German that came in his way. He saw men crumple beside him, his own men and his friends, screaming out in pain as bullets hit them. Diving for cover in a shell hole, he pulled one of his men with him and together they continue to fire at the Germans rapidly advancing. Near him, Matthew saw Major Owen go down under heavy fire. Ignoring the shouts from one of his privates, he dashed out and reached the Major, hauling the man up onto his shoulders. Shouting, he began to run back to the safety of the trench when it all happened so suddenly. A searing pain shot up through his left leg and he cried out in agony, the pain become fast unbearable. He hobbled to try and reach the trench but he heard the unmistakeable whistle of a shell bearing down. Suddenly, he was thrown into the air as the shell landed not far from him. He cried out as he landed heavily on his back, clapping his hands to his ears as a ringing filled them, winching and screaming at the sear pain he was in. He looked down at his leg, and saw mangled limbs and blood covering his lower half of his left leg. Another pain shot through his arm as he struggled to make it to the trench, winching and crying out with every movement. He began to taste an almost metallic taste in his mouth and he realised he had somehow hit his head, which was now bleeding profusely. Slowly, everything became out of focus as he crawled, desperate to reach safety. Eventually, he had no energy left in him and laid spread-eagle on the muddy ground. It was as if he was welcoming death, but he wanted to fight it, fight the incoming darkness. He had often heard that your life flashes before your eyes as you die – Matthew had never really believed in nonsense until now. He saw his mother, his father, the great house of Downton Abbey, the Earl, Lavinia, Mary, Mary… He tried to think of Lavinia, he wanted her face to be the last thing he saw if it ever was – but Mary was there, her beautiful face smiling tearfully at him. He eventually gave up fighting not to see her face, and allowed himself to fall slowly into darkness, his pain numbing and her beauty still fresh in his mind. He had muffled shouts around him and hands grabbing him as he silently passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks once again for the reviews I have been receiving - it's really great to hear that you guys like this story so please keep them coming in! I'm afraid it doesn't get much better for the angsty side of this story in this chapter, but please do enjoy!**

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><p>Mary had almost collapsed in shock when she heard the news, her father and mother ashen-faced as they spoke gently to her and her other sisters. Matthew. Injured. She couldn't quite process the words, as she hastily sat down, the news like a punch to the stomach. She felt sick, everything spun around her as she tried to take in the news. Her father's voice slowly brought her around from her shock, and she inwardly cursed herself for acting like this in front of her family – she wasn't the one engaged to Matthew, but yet she couldn't help but be petrified – what if he doesn't make it? She shuddered at the thought, and unwelcome tears began to prick at the corner of her eyes.<p>

"We do not know how severe his injuries are but he is being transferred to Downton straight away for treatment," Lord Grantham continued, looking sympathetically at his eldest daughter, "He'll be back home safe my child." Mary nodded weakly, standing shakily to her feet and muttering her excuses, hastily made for her bed chamber, her head in a daze. Once she reached the comfort and privacy of her bed chamber, she let the tears fall openly as she cried, gulping to try calm herself down. Horrid thoughts were tarnishing her mind as she saw images of Matthew, lying there broken, blood splattering him. She began to call herself a fool; a fool for never telling him the truth, the truth about her feelings, the truth about Pamuk. If this was the end, she regretted she never told him sooner, that she let him go to be with that Lavinia woman. At the very thought of Lavinia, her tears fell rapidly – she would be the one to take care of her fiancée not Mary. Oh how she would love to take care of him, sooth him and heal him but no, that was no longer possible. Mary cursed herself once more, as she wiped the tears from her sodden face and had to once again remind herself that Matthew was no longer hers' to love; she had to let him be healed by the person who was his intended.

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><p>Matthew arrived a few days later at the Abbey – now a convalescent home with a hospital ward – and was taken immediately to a room in the house separated to the other soldiers. He had been treated mainly at a field hospital in France but now need plenty of time to recover. Cousin Isobel had been sent for, and was now tending to her son; the rest of the family had given their cousins space but now Mary found herself meandering down to where he was. She had kept out of sight when he arrived, telling herself she had to stay away for her and his sake but now, she found that she couldn't. With a weak smile from her father, she entered the room and almost immediately gasped in shock. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight in front of her – doctors and nurses hurriedly ran around the bed, brandishing bandages and other medical equipment, cousin Isobel among them. She then suddenly caught a glimpse of Matthew, and she felt her legs almost give away below her. She saw him, his left leg twisted and bandaged up, the bandages soaked with blood. Gulping her gaze followed up to his head, where he sported a large gash on his right temple, dried blood covering most of his face. His eyes were shut but she could hear him cry out in pain as the nurses attended to his leg and his mother attempting to up the gash on his face, uttering soothing words to her son. Mary couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for her cousin, showing such strength. She felt sick, scared for his well-being as he lay still, occasionally mumbling but not forming words. It was torture to see Matthew like this, the person she loved in such pain and distress and yet she was useless, she could do nothing to help sooth him.<p>

"Mary…" A name formed out of the mumblings Matthew was making, and it was clear to Mary who was summoning, despite his incredible weak voice. She instantly froze, as Isobel looked up and caught her eye, bewildered.

"Mary…Where's Mary.." Matthew mumbled again weakly, his eyes fluttering open for a moment as Mary gazed at him. She could see his deep blue eyes, scanning briefly before blinking shut once more. Mary looking pleadingly at Isobel, silently asking permission to move nearer. Isobel nodded once, giving her a weak smile as Mary hastily moved to his side, grabbing his hand and instantly stroking it subconsciously, trying to sooth him.

"Shh Matthew, I'm here. Your home now, your safe," She smiled weakly, as Matthew once again fluttered his eyes open to get a glimpse of him. Her heart shone as a ghost of a smile appeared on his face, as his grip on her hand tightened a little.

"Mary…Thank god you're here," He muttered sleepily, as his eyelids began to droop again.

"Shh now Matthew, get some sleep. I'm here," She said gently, as Matthew fell into a deep slumber within minutes, clearly exhausted. Mary took in the sight of his gash near his eye, and had to prevent herself from gasping, simply just continuing to stroke his hand. She looked at Isobel, who placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"He'll be ok Mary. He's badly broken his leg which will heal but it'll take time, and the gash on his head will also heal. He's just very very weak," She said, squeezing Mary's shoulder in reassurance as she then moved forward to bandage up Matthew's injury. She began to feel useless as Isobel tended to her son, and stood up weakly.

"I'll help you." She smiled at Isobel, who returned a weak but grateful smile. Together, the two women bandaged the gash, wiped his face clean of the dried blood and made sure his leg was comfortable before taking up positions by his bedside. Isobel did not question why Mary had stayed but she did not need to – she need perfectly why Mary was here, tending to her injured son. She knew Mary still harboured deep feelings for Matthew, and she knew that deep down, Matthew felt the same. They stayed there all night, watching over Matthew sleep and occasionally sleeping themselves until the early morning sunlight woke them from their restless slumber. Mary only left his bedside when Lavinia arrived, coming straight from London and immediately bursting into Matthew's room. Mary (who had been sitting by his side holding his hand) stood up abruptly, dropping Matthew's hand instantly as she stood in shock at the sudden arrival of Lavinia. Their gazes met for a moment, bearing down on one another as Lavinia rushed to Matthew's bedside, picking up the hand that Mary had been holding all night, completely ignoring Mary and Isobel. Taking it as her cue to leave and with a sympathetic smile from Isobel, Mary slipped out of the room. She was exhausted and now her heart felt pain again. She had completely forgotten that she was not meant to have spent all night comforting Matthew – that was not her job any longer, yet he had wanted _her_. He called out to her, not Lavinia. But she was not the one engaged to Matthew, not the one who he would look at adoringly anymore. Sighing heavily, she made her slowly to her bed chamber, promising herself to stay out of Matthew's new life with Lavinia and although it pained her, she would have to live with that regret no matter how much it hurt.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviews are once more welcomed :) I also want to say that I hope everyone who has received their A-Level and GCSE results recently have all done well, I'm sure you have done :) x<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Many thanks once again for the reviews and alerts you readers have put on this story. I'm afraid this story is pretty angsty for the best part of it but I hope you all enjoy it! I've been ill the last couple of days so I have taken the opportunity to write some more chapters - here's the next installment!**

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><p><strong>March 1917<strong>

As he stared out across the lawn of Downton, wincing slightly as a flash of pain shot up suddenly in his left leg, Matthew thought of the very thought of how his injuries came about – the war. It had been a couple of months since he had first arrived back at Downton, and he had slowly recovered from his injuries sustained, having been told he would not be fit for service once more and he admitted quietly to himself he was glad not to be back at that hell-hole. He would regularly have flashbacks and nightmares about the trenches – the darkness, the mud, the blood, the fear – he would get flashbacks on his friends screaming out beside him, dying and he always would then remember that moment when his life went turned upside down. He could almost feel the moment the bullet impacted his lower leg, feel the pain shooting up, pain like he had never experienced before. He could hear the whistle of shells raining down on him, a whistle coming closer and closer before he was then flown into the air. Matthew closed his eyes as he remembered the moment he laid on the ground, seeing all of the people who had and still meant something to him. He quickly opened his eyes as his thoughts crossed Mary, and cursed himself, telling him to think of Lavinia.

He vaguely remembered when he first arrived back at Downton, feeling the pressure of a hand in his, seeing his mother before it all went dark once more. The next time he awoke properly, he felt Lavinia's little hand in his and his mother looking cautiously over at him. He had smiled weakly at Lavinia, happy that she was there. She continued to look after Matthew, aiding and healing him until he had been well enough to walk aided with crutches; he still became weak easily so he had also use a blasted wheelchair which was currently sat in whilst looking out across the grounds. He was surrounded by other wounded soldiers, most sporting various bandages, others like him confined to a wheelchair. Nurses wondered around helping others but Matthew was left in peace, which he liked. He was ashamed to be seen in a wheelchair; he felt it shown how weak he was, that he wasn't the strong Captain that was expected of him. He was alone this particularly day as Lavinia had headed back to London for a few days to sort some business, and he found himself particularly lonely without her. He did love Lavinia, he smiled to himself, thinking of her wonderful smile and the way she had been so caring to him – he did care for her very much. Yet, he almost felt disappointed in a way that she wasn't Mary as Matthew found himself once again thinking about the eldest Grantham daughter. He would admit, he found himself a little hurt by the fact Mary had not visited since he had arrived back at Downton – although she had apparently asked after him, he would have rather liked a visit from her. He shook his head – why should he care if Mary had visited him or not? What right did he have any more to even care? He let his trail of thoughts wonder to the very day he announced he was leaving Downton, leaving her as his gaze fell on the bench a short distance away. He could clearly remember her distress, his voice cracking with emotion as he could feel his eyes blurring with unwanted tears. And he could have sworn when he walked away from her that day, he heard a small sob, but he hadn't turned round; as hard as it had been, he had forced himself to continue walking.

He heard footsteps suddenly shake him out of his trance, and smiled as Lady Sybil rounded the corner, dressed in her uniform. He had to admit, he was impressed with Sybil's passion and work ethic as she had ignored those who told her not to train as a nurse and became determined to achieve what she wanted to achieve. He had always been good friends with Sybil ever since he had helped her when she was injured at the count, and she in return had helped him graciously with his injuries. She flashed a bright smile in return as she sat down by his side.

"Good afternoon Matthew!"

"Good afternoon Sybil," Matthew smiled, her good mood infectious – he suddenly felt ten times brighter than he had done moments ago.

"How are you feeling today?" Sybil asked, as Matthew nodded in return.

"Not bad; just the old leg is sore," He winced at that moment as another pain shot up through his leg. He hit the side of his wheelchair, sick of the damn thing as Sybil looked on sympathetically.

"You won't be in that forever you know. Your leg will heal," She said, smiling sadly at Matthew who had looked up from giving his wheelchair a narrowed look and smiling weakly.

"I know, I just…want to be doing something," He sighed heavily, Sybil nodding in understanding, "I want to be out there doing something, not stuck here doing nothing!" He rubbed his right temple softly, feeling the scar that had been left there. He hated that scar too, a scar that would forever remind him of the war, a solid reminder. His hand tightened on the wheelchair as the memories once again came running back and he shuddered, closing his eyes to block them out. Sybil gently placed a hand on his arm, and he looked up to a small smile.

"You'll be out on your feet soon I'm sure, just take one step at a time," Sybil smiled, as Matthew smiled gently and nodded, before turning to stare out across the lawn again. He began to relax again, his grip loosening on his wheelchair as a fresh ray of sun hit his face, relishing in the warmth. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before Sybil broke it.

"Where is Lavinia today if I may be so bold to ask?"

Matthew turned and smiled at Sybil.

"No not at all! She is in London today, she will be back soon," He smiled at the thought of Lavinia, his now intended – he was looking forward to seeing her once more. Sybil smiled briefly, before standing up abruptly.

"Please do excuse me Cousin, I must return to the house," She said, smiling as Matthew nodded. He was just about to look back across the gardens, when Sybil spoke again once more, just as she was about to turn to leave.

"Oh and by the way – she misses you. And I know deep down somewhere, you miss her too." And with that Sybil left, leaving Matthew to ponder and chew over her words as he stared after open-mouthed, stunned into shock. Mary miss him? Never, Matthew thought to himself but then something caught his eye as he had followed Sybil walking back into the house. Up above from one of the windows, stood her, the very person Sybil had meant, gazing out on the lawn just like he had been. He briefly caught her eye and for a second, just a second, he felt that connection again as their eyes meant. He stared into chocolate brown eyes, everything else was blocked out of his mind until she blushed and walked away hastily from the window, leaving Matthew to gaze at nothing. The more and more he thought about her, the more and more he knew that the feelings he still had for her were becoming alive once more. And he hated himself because he knew it was not the honourable thing to do.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Andddd here's another update! Aren't you guys lucky? ;) Enjoy everyone, and keep reviewing! **

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><p><strong>November 1917<strong>

Several months had passed since he had shared that conversation with Sybil, and he and Lavinia were no closer to marrying. There was word going round that the war was nearing its long awaited end, but yet the more the rumours circulated, the more and more it became very unlikely. Matthew had been sent down to work in the offices in London with Lord Grantham once he had recovered significantly from his injuries but even now, he still struggled with his leg. At times, the pain would become most unbearable and he now walked with a slight limp, the army medics and his mother deeming him no longer fit for active duty. In many ways, Matthew was hugely relieved that he would not be returning to that hell-hole – he did not miss the mud, the violence, the suffering at all. But in some ways, Matthew felt he was a coward that it was his duty as a Captain to be there on the front line fighting for his country – only his blasted leg would prevent him from doing so. After a time, the dull pain in his leg which constantly stayed with him had become a part of him, he had become used to it and the limp that now accompanied it. Nurses and doctors had even suggested at one point that he use the wheelchair but he had flatly refused, determined to prove them wrong. As well as his leg, he also still had the scar on his right temple, a jagged line running the length of it; he hated it. He thought it was ugly but it also reminded him more of the war, the moment it had happened in the muddy field of no-man's land every time he looked in the damn mirror.

He stood waiting in the hall of Downton Abbey, back on a week-end visit to the family and bringing Lavinia with him as he often did. He had slowly but surely built up a good friendship with Lady Mary once more and they had begun to go back to their old ways of teasing and challenging one another but also respecting each other in a different light. Mary respected the fact that he was no longer waiting around for her and he liked that – until recently. Somehow, even now, he still would feel a connection every time he had spoken with her, the same joy every time they had teased one another just like they had used to. She often accompanied him on walks around the Abbey whenever he returned from London, and he soon found he could not wait to just be in her company once more. And with that, he realised as he sat in his office in London, working late on a new strategy that he had unintentionally fallen back in love with Lady Mary. He had smiled at the revelation, at the fact he had probably never stopped loving her but recoiled in horror – how could he do this to Lavinia? Lavinia was the only person he was meant to love, so surely this feelings were pure nonsense? He had tried to push them out of his mind, focusing all his attention on Lavinia, even ignoring Mary's letters a couple of times until he found he could no more. As he stood waiting for Lavinia to finish speaking with his mother, he nervously drew his breath – he would have to tell Lavinia. She didn't deserve it.

"Ah there you are darling!" A sweet voice echoed from down the hall as Matthew turned round to see a smiling Lavinia waltzing down the corridor towards him. Matthew nervously smiled back, twisting his hat even more in his hands – he did care for Lavinia deeply, he loved her but he could not do this anymore, she deserved better.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked simply, as she hooked her hand around his arm as he lead the way out of the Abbey and into the grounds.

"Now I've been speaking to your mother about a number of things, like how…" Lavinia begun to carry on speaking as Matthew's thoughts soon drifted away as they walked further and further away from the house, nearing the bench where he and Mary had shared so many conversations, so many thoughts together.

"See we need to organise what to once your finished in London…"

"Lavinia…" Matthew began to interrupt, walking slowly that his limp would allow him.

"-And we need to also arrange the wedding…"

"Lavinia stop!" Matthew found himself raising his voice, a little harsher than he had intended and he immediately regretted it as he spun round, stopping both of them in their tracks and Lavinia's words ebbed away. He suddenly realised that he was breathing heavily than he should, and he began to slow his breathing down slowly, shutting his eyes briefly before opening them to find a shocked Lavinia.

"I'm sorry, I just.." He sighed heavily, turning away slightly, "I just need to talk to you about something Lavinia."

Lavinia nodded, before placing a gentle hand on his arm. Matthew felt a slight swoop in his stomach, the feeling he had always got with Lavinia but this time it was different, not as powerful. He looked up, placing a sympathetic smile on his face as he gently took Lavinia's small hand.

"I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry Lavinia, but you deserve a lot better," He breathed shakily, as Lavinia slowly took in what he had said, dropping the hand on his arm. She blinked, looking away to the ground before shakily replying.

"What do you mean? What do you mean you can't do this anymore?" Her voice shook with emotion, and Matthew immediately felt immensely guilty as he turned to not face her gaze.

"I cannot marry you. I'm sorry, really I am. I care for you very deeply but you deserve someone more honourable," Lavinia stared at him in shock, as tears began to seep from her eyes, rolling silently down her cheeks. Matthew reached out a hand but she shook it off, turning her back to him. Swallowing, Matthew continued.

"You deserve someone who will have all of your heart Lavinia, someone who much more honourable than I am."

He could see Lavinia's shoulders shaking gently as she slowly turned round to face him, cheeks tear stained.

"Your still in love with her aren't you?" The question hung in the air and Matthew could only let it fall into silence – he had no answer. He could not deny it, yet he did not wish to admit it out loud for the sake of Lavinia's feelings. The silence was enough to satisfy Lavinia, as if the silence only was the answer. He did not need to say – it was as if she already knew.

"I've known all along Matthew, I know it's always been her," She said shakily, as Matthew looked up, meeting her eyes intensely as he tried to protest.

"Lavinia-"

"Matthew, it's ok," She smiled weakly, as she moved forward to place a hand on his cheek, gently caressing it. Matthew moved to place his hand over his, slowly bringing it down to hold it and stroke it.

"I'm sorry Lavinia, I really do care for you very much. I just…"He trailed off, gazing down at the ground not wanting to meet Lavinia's eyes who slowly nodded and dropped her hand from Matthew's grip. Pulling on her ring finger, she gently eased off the ring he had given her, and slowly placed it in his hand – Matthew could tell how much this was hurting her and he felt such a prig, such a horrid man. She reached up, pressing her lips gently to Matthew's cheek gazing at him one last time, tears falling down her cheeks rapidly.

"Goodbye Matthew." With a final squeeze of his hand, she turned her back to him and slowly walked away from him, not turning back once. As Matthew watched her leave for the final time, a part of him wanted to run after her and tell her sorry and that he was a fool. But his heart was telling him different – it is time to move on and it was time to fix the past. Lavinia was not a mistake; she merely helped him understand the true feelings of his heart, and he was determined to make it right this time.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: And this, my friends, is the final chapter! I am thinking of doing an epilogue, but undecided.. What do you guys think? Anyway thank you so much to those who have read this and reviewed this and favourited this story - despite how angsty this is, I have really enjoyed writing this fanfic, particularly this last chapter! I really do appreciate reviews, so any are welcomed :) If anyone has any ideas or wants me to do an epilogue please say so and I shall see what I can do :) but for now, take care and thanks once again! CC x**

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><p><strong>November 1918<strong>

It was over. Everyone could breathe a huge sigh of relief as news filtered through that the war – the great war as people had begun to call it – had finally ended; all of the man who were still fighting could return home safe and sound. And as Mary sat in the grounds of Downton on the stone steps, surveying the many soldiers that still lived in the house, she quietly remembered those who would not be returning home – Evelyn Napier, Thomas, two young boys who had worked down in the kitchen… Downton had certainly not been affected by war. She could thank God numerous times for allowing others such as Dr Clarkson, William and of course Matthew to return home. A swooping sensation emerged in her stomach, a sensation that often appeared when she had thought of Matthew. She couldn't really deny the elation she felt when she found out Matthew was no longer engaged to Lavinia, an ounce of hope in her; yet nothing had changed in the months since she had gone. Mary shouldn't have really expected Matthew to have come running back to her straight away, not after everything but yet, she was… disappointed to say the least. But how could she expect him to say anything now, or indeed propose to her when he now knew of the whole Pamuk business? Mary lowered her head in shame as she thought back to the conversation the pair of them had had a number of days ago – the whole story spilling out of Mary's mouth as they had sat alone in the library. She clearly remembered the shock displayed on his face, his deep blue eyes full of hurt as he slowly digested the news, the truth. And before Mary could have said anything else, he had briskly walked out of the library, mumbling an apology as he went. Mary did not need it in black and white writing to know that she had quite possibly ruined everything, that there was no doubt now that Matthew would never ever propose to her. She had half expected him to run back to Lavinia, and strangely enough, she felt at peace. Despite knowing that she could have quite possibly lost Matthew for good, her mind was at the rest – the truth was out in the open, she had finally told him after all these years and it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Relief, she felt, and even though she experienced a fresh wave of pain, she would have to force herself to move on.

That was until she heard footsteps walking slowly towards her, bringing out of her trail of thought and looking up to see Matthew. Limping and wringing his hat in his hands, he walked slowly up to her, looking up briefly to meet her eyes before looking down again once more. Mary blushed furiously as she hastily moved to stand up, brushing her skirt as she waited for Matthew. Stopping in front of her, he looked to meet her eyes and Mary blushed furiously. After a few moments of awkward silence, Matthew broke it with a cough.

"Carson said you were out here, I hope you don't mind me intruding?" He said gently, meeting her gaze once more. Every time Mary looked into those piercing blue eyes, he entranced her, slowly losing herself in the deepness and beauty of them. She shook herself out of her daze, and eventually managed to form some words together.

"Not at all Cousin! I am grateful for some company," She smiled weakly at Matthew, who returned a small smile. She gestured for him to sit down, which he accepted gladly and she perched herself next to him, her hand inches away from his.

"I take it you have heard the news? That the war is finally over? "Mary broke the silence again this time, as Matthew shifted slightly, wincing.

"Yes, I received a telegram this morning. It is fine news," He spoke, his gaze fixed on the house, his hands still wringing his hat.

"Indeed it is! It's a great relief to know that it is all over at last," Mary spoke, ejecting some enthusiasm into her speech but yet this had no effect whatsoever on Matthew, for his gaze was still firmly fixed on the house and she gained no response. More silence. Then a whisper emerged, Matthew saying it so quieter she had to strain to hear him.

"Why Mary?" His voice a hoarse whisper, ragged with emotion as she turned away, placing her head in her hands. She could feel him turning towards her slowly, the hand that had been placed so close to hers had gone and another whisper spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Mary sighed heavily, turning away from Matthew – she could feel the tears coming once more and she was fed up of crying so much, for letting the many many tears escape. She spoke to the ground, not wanting to meet his gaze, not wanting to see the hurt.

"I…I was too ashamed Matthew," She shakily replied, rubbing her hand on the bridge of her nose, wanting all the pain to go, "I couldn't go through everything with you without you knowing, yet I-" She let out a heavy sigh once more as she poured her heart out to him, "I was too afraid."

Her last words hung in the air as Matthew slowly took in what she said. Turning slightly away from her, he looked once more at the big house as Mary was determined not to meet his gaze.

"You regret it?"

Mary turned sharply towards him, her mouth opening into a 'o' of surprise. How could he think she would have wanted this to happen, that it would ruin everything they had together? Then she remembered how attracted she acted towards Kemal Pamuk that night and she suddenly understood why he had asked. She nodded slowly, as Matthew turned slightly back to face her – god those eyes. Those wonderful eyes that currently displayed hurt, pain…

"I wish it never happened." She whispered, her voice full of emotion as Matthew nodded, "I'm ruined, my reputation, my family's reputation…and I lost _you_." Matthew turned slowly towards her as her vision became blurred, as a look of realisation hit him; he had suddenly realised why she had been so distant when he had proposed. He swallowed, gulping as if he needed air and Mary looked once more at her feet, not wanting to meet his gaze. She felt a light weight on her hand, fingers curling around hers, warm and soft. She saw as Matthew had delicately placed his hand on hers, stroking it softly and reassuringly. Looking up, all she saw was an unbelievable tenderness – no longer pain or hurt, but comfort.

"Mary…" Her name sounded like music to her ears, as she gently met his gaze, "You believe that you are spolit, ruined yes?" Mary nodded slowly in reply, tears tumbling down her cheeks. A gentle squeeze on her hand, fingertips dancing over hers.

"You're not Mary, don't think that."

Mary once again turned sharply to face Matthew, a shade of red flushing to her cheeks as he remained completely calm, his gaze still a picture of complete tenderness.

"How am I not Matthew?" Mary cried, a small sob eliciting from her throat, the grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly, "I am not virtuous Matthew, a man died in my bed! I beg you, tell me how am I not ruined?" She cried out as a strong arm snaked around her waist and she felt herself being pulled towards him. She protested slightly but found herself comfort as his other hand had let go of hers and was now stroking her hair gently, caressing it almost. She felt complete comfort as she curled herself against his chest, and soon she gave up protesting as she allowed herself to fall against his chest, slowly calming her. They sat like this, moulded together perfectly before he spoke.

"It's in the past Mary. It happened many years ago, you have learnt from then – you are anything but ruined Mary." He felt go of her slightly, to place a delicate finger under her chin, lifting it up so he could look her in the eye. She felt his thumb reach out and wipe a tear away, as she reached to grasp one of his hands, relishing the chance to be this close to him. "And you haven't lost me Mary."

She looked in surprise as she once again began to protest but she was cut off by Matthew's thumb now on her lips, quietly hushing her.

"You see Mary, this war. It is mostly horrid and awful and made me, well…" He paused, glancing down at his leg before meeting her gaze once more, "But you see, one good thing has emerged from it ," He sighed gently, his fingertips now slowly caressing her cheek, wiping tears away as her heart swelled with love for him. "It makes you realise the important things in life, the things that you should take for granted." He smiled softly.

"We were fools back then Mary, both of us. But now, we are mature, we have learnt from the past. I think it's time to make a new start," Mary nodded as she felt a smile – the first real smile of the whole situation as she reached up to stroke the scar on his right temple. She felt proud of that scar – to her it should how brave he was, how proud she was of him.

"And I want this new start to ensure that I never leave you again Mary," He smiled as Mary again nodded, beaming as an infectious smile crossed her face. Oh how can he be so wonderful? She thought, as Matthew also beamed. He suddenly moved slightly away from Mary, how was about to question and scorn him for moving before she realised what he was doing; Matthew was now shifting himself up onto one knee as Mary gasped at the realisation of what he was about to do. A hiss of pain escaped from Matthew as Mary moved hastily forward to help him but a hand shot out to stop her.

"No!" He said, his voice instantly softening, "I want to do this properly." Mary nodded and smiled, as Matthew adjusted himself onto his good leg, propping himself up on one knee. Reaching into his uniform pocket, he pulled out a small object, held between his thumb and forefinger. Mary gasped at the sheer beauty of the ring; a simple gold band with a small diamond attached. A smile spread across her face, as Matthew looked at her with adoring eyes, his smile holding so much love and adoration for her that Mary thought her heart could possibly burst with how much love she held for him.

"Mary I will only ask once more," He said nervously, shifting slightly closer to her taking her hand in his, stroking, caressing. "Do you love me enough to spend your live with me?"

Mary did not need telling twice.

"Of course! Surely you must know that I love you an awful lot!" She teased gently, beaming as a laugh escaped her, a giggle as she felt the cool band pushed onto her ring finger, the diamond gleaming in the light. Her own smile was as infectious and as joyful of Matthew's who had now proceeded to draw her close once more and cut off her giggles by placing his lips on hers. At first, it was soft, gentle, delicate but then passion soon took over and soon their lips were moving passionately against one another's, as years of love erupted. This could have happened so long ago, when they were younger but now their battle was finally over, their love finally declared as Mary moved her hands up to twist in his hair, oh how soft it was! She felt Matthew grip her waist tightly as one of his hands moved up to caress her cheek, stroking it as his thumb moved to stroke her jawbone. A soft moan escaped from Mary as she felt Matthew smile against her mouth as the kiss deepened and intensified before slowing, as the need for oxygen grew too much and they eventually rested their foreheads against one another's. They stayed like that for what seemed a lifetime, Matthew softly kissing her forehead as he refused to release his hold; not that Mary could complain. She had never felt so alive, so happy, so elated than she had done at that current moment – despite all of their disagreements, all of the foolish things that had happened in the past, somehow Matthew had since passed it all, well and truly cementing her love for him in her heart. She felt his lips move gently against her forehead, a gentle whisper full of love.

"I love you Mary. I never stopped and I always will." She beamed as she moved to kiss him once more, more passionate kissing as she found herself lost once more under his spell. When she finally dragged herself away from his lips, resting her head against his chest, his arms wounded around hers, she felt elated in the fact that they were now free to be together, free to marry, free to start a family. Nothing could compare to the future that faced them both, together.


End file.
